Wake Up Dead Man
by Zenya
Summary: What can a person do when the last link to their deceased parents leaves them? What can one do when the only father figure they ever knew dies? A look into the mind of Harry, after Sirius's death. Rated for suicidal themes. R/R!


Hi. Virtie, BreetanyaViolet and BadBoyLover made a little fic challenge with each other. We each wrote an angst song fic in the shortest amount of time possible. Sooooo, review and tell us what you think. Virtie's is "Wasted," Breetanyaviolet's is "Invisible" and BBL's is "The Pain Inside"   
  
  
  
If anyone out there is wondering why I haven't updated "When I Look At The World" in forever, well, stop wondering, because I have no good reason. However, the next chapter is 80% finished...   
  
The song is by U2, the character's belong J.K. Rowling, blah, blah, blah.   
  
Wake Up Dead Man   
  
"What the hell is life for, anyway?" Harry Potter muttered to himself darkly, glaring at the ceiling.   
  
Sighing heavily, he threw himself onto his rickety bed in his small bedroom in number four privet drive. Until recently, Harry hadn't been quite so philosophical. However, as it inevitably would, the death of a loved one had shrouded him in a permanently blacker, withdrawn mood. Sirius Black, legendary maniac murderer, and real life loving godfather to Harry had been murdered.   
  
  
  
Jesus, Jesus help me  
  
I'm alone in this world  
  
And a fucked-up world it is too.  
  
Since Harry's third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Sirius had been somewhat of an enigma in Harry's life. Harry had looked to Sirius, much as one   
  
looks at an eccentric uncle, that they want to get to know, but have terrible trouble doing so. Then, finally, in Harry's fifth year of school, their relationship changed.  
  
Tell me, tell me the story  
  
The one about eternity  
  
And the way it's all gonna be.  
  
Sirius finally had a secure place to live, and was much safer from detection by the ministry of magic. When Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place at the end of the summer, they were both overjoyed. During the course of the year, Harry and Sirius got to know each other a little better. Harry learned a few things about his own father and Sirius that he didn't like, but it made him realize that they were human beings and he couldn't keep building them up in his mind. This last revelation made Harry want to get to know Sirius even more, and not just to learn more about his parents. He wanted to know Sirius as a person. Good and bad.   
  
Then tragedy in the form of Bellatrix Lestrange struck. The Azkaban escapee Death Eater murdered Harry's Godfather during the last battle at the Ministry of Magic. Harry knew he would never forget the scene of Sirius disappearing through the veil.   
  
Wake up, wake up dead man  
  
Wake up, wake up dead man.  
  
Now it was summer, and Harry was back at the Dursley house. This summer they had reached new heights of neglect. Every member of the Dursley family completely ignored Harry's existence. Were they afraid or were they bored? Harry didn't know, but nevertheless, he was grateful for their lack of Dursleyness. Lately he preferred to be completely alone. People were annoying. They all pretended to care, but deep down they were only doing it to make themselves feel better. Then of course there was the more dangerous aspect of being close to someone: no matter how many promises they made, no matter what kind of person they were, they always left. After Sirius's death, Harry knew he had finally learned his lesson.   
  
Now, alone in his room at the Dursley's, Harry was left alone with nothing but time, and his mind. His mind was feeling rather dark and angry, but the most pressing thing was the guilt. Ever since guilt had begun to creep in, Harry knew he was in trouble. The guilt was oozing into his every being, planting thoughts in his head, and making sleeping and eating nearly impossible.   
  
Jesus, I'm waiting here, boss  
  
I know you're looking out for us  
  
But maybe your hands aren't free.  
  
Your Father, He made the world in seven  
  
He's in charge of heaven.  
  
Will you put a word in for me?  
  
Harry knew that Sirius's death was his fault. If he had fought harder, thought quicker, Sirius might be alive. It was the same with Cedric Diggory. If only. These thoughts, and many more were driving Harry mad- and he had no idea what to do.   
  
Wake up, wake up dead man  
  
Wake up, wake up dead man.  
  
He could write to Ron or Hermione, but what could they say? "Oh Harry, get over yourself and move on!" How could two people who both had families and real homes and everything else Harry had dreamed about as he sat alone in his cupboard, possibly understand what he felt?   
  
He could write to Dumbledore. No, he hated Dumbledore. Dumbledore pretended to understand how he felt, when he really didn't.   
  
There was no one who could understand Harry. Deep down, Harry wondered if he preferred it this way. Everything was so confusing, though. Harry didn't know what he wanted or needed.   
  
Listen over the rhythm that's confusing you  
  
Listen to the reed in the saxophone  
  
Listen over the hum of the radio  
  
Listen over the sound of blades in rotation  
  
Listen through the traffic and circulation  
  
Listen as hope and peace try to rhyme  
  
Listen over marching bands playing out their time.  
  
If he could just rewind his life and do everything over it would be ok. Everyone else would be happier, and maybe Harry would even be happy. It wasn't even happiness that Harry longed for, he just wanted to feel something, anything, as long as it told him that he was a good person and didn't deserve any of the shit Voldemort threw at him.   
  
But Harry did not feel anything except a deep weariness inside. He wanted to be okay again, but he was just too drained. He wanted someone to save him, but no one was there.   
  
Jesus, were you just around the corner?  
  
Did you think to try and warn her?  
  
Were you working on something new?  
  
If there's an order in all of this disorder  
  
Is it like a tape recorder?  
  
Can we rewind it just once more?  
  
So now it all came down this final act. Harry rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. For weeks he had thought about it, dreamed about it, had nightmares about it, and debated it. It all came down to Harry's death. In a way, he looked at it as avenging Sirius's and Cedric's deaths. But in his heart, he knew he deserved to die. He was nothing, and the world had nothing for him. Let someone else be the fucking savior of the wizarding world- someone who deserved it.   
  
Almost dreamily, Harry reached under his pillow and pulled out a switchblade knife. He stared at it for a minute, like he had so many times before. In fact, the debate of whether to kill himself or not was one of the things that was really wearing him out.   
  
Pushing up his shirtsleeve, Harry traced over the half a dozen or more wounds on his arm, all in various stages of healing. Suddenly, Harry smiled. This was no time to think and reminisce. Thinking time was over now. In one smooth motion, Harry sliced the knife through his wrist. "Peace at last." Harry murmured. "Peace at last.   
  
Wake up, wake up dead man  
  
Wake up, wake up dead man.  
  
Wake up, wake up dead man.  
  
  
  
REVIEW!  
  
REVIEW!  
  
REVIEW! 


End file.
